Returning to work
by RNJ12
Summary: Desperate for some normality after Danny's death, Clara returns to work before she is quite ready to.


It was a month after Danny's death that Clara Oswald returned to Coal Hill School, she had considered taking more time off, even leaving all together. But that school, that job, were all she had left now. And anything that felt normal after everything that had happened to her had to be kept hold of.

It was eight o'clock on a Monday morning in the middle of November as she walked up the front steps of the school for the first time in weeks, and as she crossed the threshold she could practically feel the air become still around her as the students' conversations in the corridor ceased. She walked quickly, head down, in the direction of the staffroom. But paused in front of the door, unable to bring herself to open it. Instead she turned and headed towards the English Department and their small shared office, at least she would only have to face a handful of people there.

She reached the English department in record time, hurrying out of the way of the whispered gossip was good for some things at least, and soon found herself in front of the faculty office. She pushed the door gently and found to her relief that there was only one other staff member present.

He turned abruptly when he heard her heels on the wooden floor behind him, and smiled warmly at her. A pleasant change from the sickeningly sweet looks of sympathy she had come to expect from people.

"Morning Clara" came Adrian's voice, quieter than usual perhaps, but still with a definite attempt at cheerfulness.

"Morning Adrian" she responded with a small smile, it was nice to see him again and for a minute things felt quite normal as they both quietly went about their business, making cups of tea and checking their timetables for the day.

"Clara," Adrian began, a hint of nervousness in his voice now "sorry, I don't mean to make a fuss, clearly you wouldn't be back if you weren't ready to be, but just, if you need something, if you find it hard to cope, not that you will, but if it does happen, I mean if you do, I mean …. You know you can come to talk to me don't you?"

"Thanks Ade," she said with a sad smile "I'll bear that in mind"

She grabbed her mug of tea and pile of papers from her pigeonhole which had stacked up in the past few weeks. She quickly rifled through the documents and notes, checking for any urgent notices. In amongst the pages she spotted a few cards, with muted drawings of flowers and the words "with sympathy" showing through the thin envelopes. She replaced those few cards in the pigeonhole, she could deal with those later, or maybe tomorrow, for now she had to focus on her first class.

"See you later Ade" she said, heading out of the door and rounding the corner to her classroom.

She had year thirteen first, and the small A-level class was not challenging for Clara, they had their coursework to be getting on with, so after an initial few minutes spent welcoming her back they soon got on with their writing and she was able to quietly reorganise her classroom and clear up in the aftermath of countless supply teachers who had inhabited her classroom over the past month. Occasionally one of the students would raise their hand to ask a question and Clara would answer it, but these seventeen and eighteen year olds knew better than to bring up any topic other than their work, today of all days.

It was second lesson that Clara was dreading, her year eights, a number of whom had seen her and Danny together on their "gifted and talented" trip. These kids were a challenge on the best of days, their curious and questioning nature was often relentless and getting them to focus on the task at hand was a real skill. Today, she worried that she might not be up to the job.

When the bell rang promptly at ten o'clock, her year thirteens put ringbinders and notebooks away in their bags, and left the room one by one, with polite smiles and a quietly mumbled "goodbye Miss Oswald" or "see you tomorrow Miss".

All too soon she heard twenty chattering voices outside her door, she took a deep breath, composed herself and welcomed them in with a breezy "good morning year eight" as she always did.

These twelve year olds may not have had quite the same level of tact and maturity as her year thirteen class had shown her an hour previously, but after a while the talk about how long she'd been away had died down and Clara was able to start her lesson. She glanced down at her planner lying open on her desk, but was somewhat alarmed to find her lesson plan empty.

"Right so, erm, we'll pick up where we left off in October which was, erm, it was of course …" she gabbled, desperate for someone to jump in with an answer.

"You said we'd be starting work on Romeo and Juliet, Miss" A quiet voice replied.

"Thank you Maebh," Clara responded confidently, as if it had been a test, "At least somebody was paying attention"

But as Clara headed towards the bookshelf and began to distribute copies of the play she silently cursed the year eight Shakespeare syllabus. A tragic love story was exactly the opposite of what she needed to hear today.

Once the books had been distributed, Clara began to read.

"Two households, both alike in dignity (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life, Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-marked love And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, naught could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage—The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."

She looked up from the play at the class in front of her "Now," she continued "This is what we call the Prologue, and it sets out the plot of the whole play. So what I'd like you all to do is to write a short paragraph bullet pointing what you think will happen in the play, based solely on these fourteen lines. And I'll be coming round the class to answer any questions you might have about the text"

Within minutes small hands began to shoot up into the air, and Clara found herself explaining every aspect of the prologue to one child or another. She spent the next twenty minutes or so wandering the room, pointing to Verona on a map of Italy she pulled up on the computer, or supressing laughter as she explained patiently that mutiny didn't necessarily mean the play was about pirates.

As Clara brought the class back together to feedback their ideas about the prologue, another question was posed, "Miss Oswald? What are "star-crossed lovers"

"Well, star-crossed lovers is actually a very interesting phrase, because it can mean two different things" She explained, "sometimes it means that these two people were destined to meet and to fall in love, that some higher power caused their paths to cross." Clara stopped abruptly, with a distant look in her eye. She felt twenty gazes gnawing away at her, and she felt her breaths become shallow and her heart rate quicken.

"And the other meaning Miss?" the voice asked again.

Clara's eyes refocused suddenly, "yes, sorry!" she exclaimed, a little flustered.

"The other meaning," she responded in a now audibly shaking voice "is two lovers who, throughout their relationship are doomed to, erm, doomed to a tragic end. Whereby outside forces will not allow them to be together." Her voice was quiet now, and she could not meet the eyes of the students as she spoke.

"Sorry, I'm sorry but, erm …" she gabbled, as her voice started to crack with the threat of tears "year eight, I have to just step out for a moment, please continue reading act one and if there are any problems please see Adria… er Mr. Davies next door. Otherwise work in silence please. Sorry, thank you"

She spoke in one fluid breath, taking quick steps towards the door as she finished her sentence. She escaped the room just as the first sob broke and she found herself running down the corridor away from the English department. Her legs seemed to work out where she was running to far before her brain did, and it was only when she threw open the familiar red door that she realised she had run straight to one of the maths rooms. The door slammed behind her and she sunk to the floor in the abandoned classroom.

She stayed there for what felt like years, sobbing uncontrollably on her knees, gasping for breath amidst the tears. Eventually, the sobbing subsided and she sat, slumped and exhausted, against the wooden teacher's desk next to the chalkboard.

The chalkboard drew her attention, it had not been rubbed clear since the last time the room had been used, and Danny's writing was still clearly printed there. That was the final straw for Clara, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the desk. The tears fell again, but silently now – too tired to sob or scream anymore.

She must have been there for a good half an hour when the door to the classroom opened, this barely registered with Clara, who continued to cry quietly and remained where she was.

Soon the lights in the room were switched on suddenly and a familiar voice spoke, sounding shocked and a little scared at seeing her teacher like this.

"Miss Oswald?" It was the alarmed voice of Courtney Woods, who had entered the room carrying a class set of textbooks. She dropped the books onto a nearby shelf and hurried over to where the woman was still huddled on the floor. "Miss?" she tried again, but this elicited no response. It was then she remembered her teacher's words of "hey, call me Clara" a few months previously.

Courtney knelt in front of her teacher, and softly spoke again. "Clara?" she tried.

It was at this point that Clara seemed to notice her there, and realising where she was, began to furiously wipe her tears away.

"Courtney?" she asked, a little dazed. "What are you doing in here?"

"Mrs Price asked me to bring these books back to the bookshelf in here," she was hesitant as she asked her next question "what about you Miss? Are you okay?"

Clara looked up at Courtney kneeling next to her, Courtney was her student, and Clara felt sure that this was not the sort of thing teachers divulged to the students in their care. However, the majority of teachers weren't in the habit of taking their students on life-threatening trips to the moon either. So maybe it was a little late for the pretence of professionalism now.

"No Courtney, I'm not okay" Her head was in her hands as she spoke, and Courtney couldn't stand to see her like that any longer.

"Miss Oswald, please, you can't stay sitting on the floor"

Clara nodded, feeling ridiculous as she saw the look of pity that Courtney was sending her way. Clara tried to stand, but her legs were weak and her hands shook as she tried to use the edge of the desk to help herself stand.

"Do you, erm, do you want a hand getting up?"

Again Clara nodded, and gladly took the hand that Courtney offered.

Courtney carefully helped her up and led her to the nearby desk chair. Before pulling up a chair of her own.

"I'm sorry Courtney, I can't even imagine what you must think of me, I mean look at me," Clara said, anger rising in her voice, "I abandoned a class of twelve year olds, left them completely unsupervised to come and cry in my dead boyfriend's classroom. And now you're having to put up with listening to all of this, and do you know why Courtney? Because Danny's dead, and the Doctor's gone. I have lost the two people who I loved, and who I could trust and speak to truthfully. And what do I have now hey? I shouldn't have come back to work this soon, but it's all that I have left. How sad is that? How pathetic does a person's life have to be when this," she gestured wildly around her, "This is as good as it gets. It's so unfair, it's all so bloody unfair."

Rant over, she slumped back in her seat. Almost shocked at what she had just said.

Courtney leant forward towards her.

"I'm so, so sorry Clara," said softly, seemingly not rattled by the outburst, "I know this doesn't help much, but you should know that everyone here will help, with whatever you need. We all miss Mr. Pink so much, and we can't imagine what you're going through, but we'll help however we can"

Clara looked back at her and smiled slightly.

"Thank you Courtney, that means a lot."

"And also, I think someone who saved the world as many times as you did is owed some help if they need it."

Clara actually smiled at that.

"I think I might need it" she admitted.

"Can I get you a tissue Miss? Or ask the canteen to make you a cup of tea?" Courtney asked, eager to help in any small way she could.

"Tea would be fantastic Courtney, and I don't know if tissues will cut it, I imagine my eyeliner may have come off quite badly in all this, right?"

Courtney smiled back at her, "well I wasn't going to mention it".

"I have some make-up wipes in my desk draw, thank you anyway Courtney"

"It's nothing Miss, really. I'll get you that tea"

Courtney stood up to leave, and was surprised when Clara also rose from her seat and briefly put her arms round her shoulders in a hug. "It's not nothing Courtney" she said before withdrawing her arms and smiling at her kindly.

Courtney smiled back at her and nodded, not quite sure what to say to that. But eventually settled on "Milk and one sugar?"

"Perfect" Clara responded.

As Courtney reached the classroom door, Clara called after her.

"Courtney?"

"Yes Miss?"

"Did you call me Clara before?"

"Yeah, sorry, you weren't responding and I remembered what you'd said to call you that one time, It won't happen again Miss Oswald"

"It's fine Courtney," she laughed, "just maybe not in English lessons hey?"

"Okay Clara" Courtney said with a laugh as she left the room.

Clara turned back towards the empty classroom, and was about to leave when she caught sight once again of the blackboard, and Danny's writing that still clung to its surface.

She walked slowly over to it, and traced a few chalk letters lightly with her finger before picking up the board rubber that lay on the small shelf next to the board.

With a few silent tears leaving her eyes and making yet more dark, make-up stained tracks on her cheeks, she began to methodically clean the board until Danny's writing had become nothing more than small specks of dust drifting through the air around her.

With that she replaced the rubber on the shelf, straightened Danny's chair at his desk and headed towards the door.

She paused at the light switch and sent the empty room back into half-darkness.

"Goodbye Danny" She whispered tearfully, and carefully closed the door behind her.


End file.
